Redwall: The Prince of Cats or The Basilisk Crown
by Ghost
Summary: My first Redwall fanfic ever. Please read the Author's Note. A wounded catwarrior is taken to Redwall Abbey. Meanwhile another one of those cruel warlords is on his way and nothing will stop him. Especially not Redwall.
1. Arrival

Authors Note: I decided to read Redwall. Big mistake. I can't get it out of my mind. Only two of Redwall books are available translated to my language, and I have yet only read the first one. Never the less I had to write this down, and I hope I have not made to many mistakes. This is just some kind of long prologue, and I am uncertain if there is to be more coming. As things are looking right now, it would not surprise me, though. I am rather uncertain regarding when in the Redwall timeline this occurs, but I believe it to be some hundred years after "Redwall" and "Mattimeo" but as I said, I really don't know what I'm talking about. As always I would appreciate reviews. Anything will do, but please be nice.

Disclaimer: The world of Redwall and historical characters like Matthias and Martin belong to the genius know as Brian Jacques. The rest of the characters are mine, to the best of my knowledge.

Redwall: The Prince of Cats

Or

TheBasiliskCrown

The night sky was clear and the moon smiled down on Redwall Abbey and the stars glimmered like diamonds. The sun had just disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving only a slowly retreating light. The mice of Redwall had just begun turning in for the night, when one of them took a look out the battlements and noticed a large white animal that dragged itself towards the Abbey.

"Ohoy!" he shouted to his brethren. "We have an incoming wounded animal, coming towards the North Gate!"

"What kind is it?" another one shouted.

"I can't see," the first one answered and peered towards the large white creature. "The light is to dim. It is quite large, and white as snow. It just fell and is not moving!"

"Whatever it is, we have an obligation to help it," the other mouse said. "Summon a rescue party, and inform Michael and the Abbot that we have a guest."

Soon the rescuers were on their way. Among them were Michael the Warrior, descendant of Matthias the Warrior who had once slain Cluny the Scourge, and his friend Bleys Fireheart, a still young yet strong and wise warriorfox. Along with a couple of Redwall-brothers they hurried to the wounded animal. Before they even got there, Bleys growled.

"It's a cat."

He was right as usual. It was a large, muscular cat with fur that would have been white as snow if not tainted in red blood and brown-grey mud. He was dressed in a strange uniform or body armour that seemed to have taken a lot of beating, since it was damaged in multiple places. He had a round shield on his arm and a heavy battleaxe hanging from his belt. Bleys' eyes were cold as ice. No one knew why he hated cats the way he did. Some said it had to do with his childhood, but no one ever dared to ask him. Not even Michael had been able to get a straight answer out of the fox.

"A cat," the Warrior nodded. "Never the less we must help him."

"We do?" Bleys asked.

"You know we do. Let us get him inside. The abbot and the other healers could surely revive him."

"And if he does not _appreciate _our help?" the fox asked.

Michael let his hand run over the hilt of Ratbane, the ancient sword of Martin the Warrior.

"You and I will stay close to him so that we can intervene if he would get aggressive." The mouse's iron-hard gaze met the fox's eyes. "But it is bad enough that you are wishing for it."

"Very well," Bleys said. "Let's get him out of here."

They picked the cat up and carried him inside.

"He doesn't look like a wildcat, even though he has scars all over him," Thorn said as she tended the cat's wounds. "What on earth can he have done to get this messed up?"

Unlike Bleys, Thorn was a very gentle soul who did not want any harm come to any creature. The fox glared at the new patient. "He is going to bite her the minute he wakes up," he muttered quietly. "I know it!"

Michael ignored his friend. "He looks like a soldier. Maybe he was wounded in a battle?"

"Wouldn't surprise me," Thorn said. "He sure has a lot of scars, and these wounds looks like cutlass cuts. What intrigues me, though, is that there is no war in the nearby neighbourhood. No armies, no warlords. So what did this to him?"

"Maybe he was attacked by scavengers or something," Bleys said. "Who cares."

"Bleys," the mousemaid began as she carefully began to sow a particularly deep wound together. "You are a good friend and a very intelligent person, but whenever you are around cats your judgement is clouded. Would you lay off the poor creature?"

Just as she finished her sentence and began another stitch the cat suddenly opened his yellow eyes and in a white flash grabbed Thorn around the throat with his sharp claws.

"Thorn!" Michael and Bleys shouted and flew up from their places. Suddenly the cat's eyes rolled back and he fainted, releasing Thorn.

"Poor creature? Yeah right!" Bleys said and showed his fangs.

"Thorn, are you alright?" Michael asked.

Thorn was obviously shocked. She took a step away from the bed and almost fell to the floor. 

"I… I… I should have given him a stronger potion," she stammered. She looked up on Michael. "I am okay, big brother. You can put that down now."

Michael suddenly noticed that he was holding his sword in a grip so tight that his knuckles were whitening. He did as she said and let the blade fall again.

"You scared me there, little sister," he said. 

Thorn nodded towards the cat. "He scared me. I have to get more potion, or I'll never get that wound closed."

She quickly left the room. As the adrenaline left his system, he noticed how hungry he was. He moved towards the door.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked the grim fox.

"Bring it here," Bleys said. "I want to stay were I can see him."

As Michael left the room, he realised the Bleys Fireheart would not look away from the cat until the very moment it awakened, and probably not even then. Even if it would take the whole night.

The cat awoke a couple of hours after Thorn had finished her job. She and a couple of other order members had assembled near his bed, along with Bleys, Michael and Abbot Lucius. Bleys had proposed that the cat should be put in chains before he woke up and could cause any damage, but the Abbot had said that it would not be the right way to show their hospitality.

The cat was much calmer this time then before. He opened his eyes and let his gaze sweep across the room and the faces of the ones present. When he had evaluated the situation he tried to get up.

"You should lie down," Thorn warned. "You are still weak from you wounds and you lost allot of blood."

"I will manage," he said with a surprisingly calm and melodic voice. "Where am I, and who are you?"

"This is Redwall Abbey," Abbot Lucius said his most soothing voice. "We are the ones who healed you. You are safe now."

"Redwall," the cat said, pondering. "Yes, I have heard of this place."

"Who are you?" Thorn asked.

The cat grinned. "A dangerous question, young one. There is never a good answer for it. If you wish to know my name, it is Snowflake Silverslash."

"Snowflake?" Thorn said, surprised. A muffled laugh was heard from Bleys.

"Something funny about that?" Snowflake asked with a tone that suggested that he better like the answer.

"No," Thorn hurried to say. "It's just that you look like a warrior. I had expected something in style with Grimswipe or Wrathfang."

"I _am _a warrior," Snowflake said. "Many changes their names when they take their first steps down that road, but I am what I am, and if my enemies underestimates me because of my name, all the better! My parents gave me this name, and I happened to like it." He turned his head. "Got a problem with that, fox?"

Bleys did not answer. He was already back in his stare-with-grim-cold-eyes role. "No problem, cat."

"You must be hungry," Abbot Lucius said. "We do not usually serve so much meat here, but I could ask the chef to prepare a wonderful fish to you?"

"You would be surprised to learn what I have eaten in my days, Father Abbot. Bring it in."

As the cat known as Snowflake did not seem to pose any serious threat, everybody went back to his or hers respective chores. The last ones to leave were Thorn, Michael and Bleys. 

"Now just lie here and wait for your food," Thorn said and reached over to it that his bandages were tight enough. "One you have eaten I'm sure you are going to feel much, much…"

With the speed of lightning Snowflake reached up and grabbed her paw. Bleys growled and took a step forward, but felt a hand on his shoulders. Michael shook his head, and his eyes spoke out only one word. _Trust._

Snowflake carefully sniffed the frightened mousemaid's paw. He looked at her. "You tended my wounds?"

She nodded. "Yes, me and the others."

The cat let go. "Thank you," he mumbled and fell asleep.

Bleys looked at Michael. "He could have hurt her, you know."

"But he didn't," Michael said. "You do not need to guard him, Bleys, he is too weak to do any harm."

"He will get stronger," Bleys muttered and he left the room.

Thorn still stood by the bed, looking down at the creature that, under other circumstances, would have considered her as lunch. Michael walked up to her,

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "He startled me a little, bit I am getting used to him now." She smiled. "I have never seen a cat this close before. So strong and yet, in a way, quite beautiful." She reached down and gently stroked his forehead. He smiled in his sleep and started to purr softly. "He seems so peaceful now. I wonder why Bleys hates his kind so much."

"Because, little sister, just like you see something good in every vile creature and wounded scavenger we bring in here, Bleys has a hard time trusting anyone," Michael said. "He lived a hard life before he came here, you know that. He actually reminded a bit of this one when we brought him in, wounded and beaten. He must have had a bad experience when it comes to cats."

Thorn giggled. "What if Snowflake decides to stay here and help out like Bleys did?"

"I pray to Heaven that he does not," Michael snickered. "He and Bleys will just end up killing each other after three days only."

They let the cat sleep and left the room. In the hall outside they meet with a young squirrelmaid. She was dressed in light armour and had a long cutlass hanging on her back and bandages around her right arm.

"Callie," Michael said. "Shouldn't you be in bed."

"Oh, stop that," Callie Squirrel said. "Do you think a little sabre slash can keep me down, I'm feeling better already." 

As to prove her point, she gave her damaged arm a pat with her left paw. She immediately regretted it and tried to disguise the grimace of pain to a grin. 

"Cal, you have to cut down on all those duels or you will be cut down yourself," Michael said. "You are going to get yourself killed."

"Or worse," his sister added. "You are a beautiful squirrel, Callie. I would hate to see a pretty face like that ruined by a battlescar."

"Okay, okay, I get the point," Cal said. "Jeez. By the way, how is my former opponent doing."

"Jeremiah Rabbit will live," Michael informed. "No thanks to you."

"Hey, he drew first blood! He won the duel, didn't he?" Call sounded offended. 

"Yes, and you drew second blood," Michael said. "He suffered from quite more then a bruised arm."

"Wasn't I the one who carried he all the way to this place so that he didn't have to bleed to death in the forest?"

"And that is the only reason you are not immediately thrown out," Michael said and leaned forward so that his face was extremely close to Cal's. "And I want you to know that even though I see you as a dear friend, Callie Squirrel, your childish "adventures" are beginning to irritate me."

Cal smiled, gave him a quick kiss on his forehead and ran off. "If that's the way you feel, love. But now I need to find something to eat!"

Michael sighed and began, utterly slowly so not to hurt himself, bash his head into the closest wall. "I hate when she does that," he said. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it…"

Thorn could not help but to laugh.

Later, Thorn came across the young squirrelwarrior in the kitchen, gobbling up a big piece of nut-filled cake with a large stoup of October-ale.

"Hi, Thorn," she said and smiled. "Is your brother very angry at me?"

"No," Thorn shook her head. "That was just his way of saying that he is worried about you and that he fears for the day when something bad finally happens to you. We all fell that way, Cal. You are like the sister I never had."

"Thank you, Thorn," Cal said. "I promise to be more careful in the future."

"You might as well stay here," Thorn said. "You will not be able to use a sword for at least five days anyway. You could help out, make peace with Michael. Do you know we brought in a wounded cat last night?"

"You did?" Cal asked. "Tell me all about it!"

While Cal ordered in more cake and ale Thorn began to tell her about the enigmatic Snowflake Silverslash.

In a tavern far from Redwall Abbey the doors opened and a figure stepped in, dressed in a hooded cloak and holding a strange weapon in his hand. It looked like a light, short spear, but the blade was slightly bent and much longer then a usual speartip. Almost like a sword. What really caught the eyes of the customers was the face that looked out under the hood. The face of a mouse with fur white as snow and eyes red as blood. Without a word he walked over to the disk and let a silver coin fall upon it.

"Landlord, a pint of your finest ale," he said and leaned his weapon towards the counter. 

"Right on," the landlord said. "Say, are you Simon the Widetraveller?"

"The very same. Who is after me this time."

"No one that I know of. It is just that we did not expect to see an adventurer like you in these parts."

"I am just passing by," Simon Widetraveller said. "I'm on my way to Mossflower."

"Mossflower?" the landlord said and raised an eyebrow. "But that place has been peaceful for years. Not many job opportunities for a… a…"

"A Soldier of Fortune?" Simon helped. "Maybe, but I have a really strong feeling that that is about to change… for the worse."

"They have breached the gate!"

"Save the children!"

"Run! Hide!"

Friar Amadeus could hear the screams from the outside. He could do nothing to help the poor villagers. Something bashed into the door, and suddenly in fell in. The friar gasped in sudden fear as an enormous, black rooster towered over him. The cruel beak looked like a deadly weapon and the talons were clad with razor-sharp steel-claws.

"General Talon Bloodcomb," the friar spat. "Only you could bee so vile! How dare you and your scum of an army attack this peaceful vill…!"

Talon silenced him by pushing him towards the wall and putting a claw towards the old mouse's throat.

"I am not here for your village, old fool," he laughed. "I am merely looking for an old artefact. An artefact that belongs to me! Tell me were it is!"

"I will not!"

Talon threw the friar away. A couple of searats immediately picked him up.

"Take him away," Talon said. The general turned to the poor mouse's office. It had to contain a clue to where the artefact was hidden. He searched the entire room without success. Then, suddenly, his cold eyes fell on an old map. He picked it up, put it on the friar's desk and studied it closely. 

"Could it be?" he mumbled. "Mossflower…"

He did not even notice the large weasel Crimsonclaw coming in.

"We have sized the village, general," he said. "The villagers are dead or captured. I have ordered the men to begin their search.

"You waste your time, captain," Talon said "It is not here."

"I see," Crimsonclaw said. "May I ask what our next target will be?"

"Redwall," Talon Bloodcomb said. His claws ripped the map into pieces with an unpleasant sound. "Redwall!"


	2. Chance

Authors Note: I decided to read Redwall. Big mistake. I can't get it out of my mind. Only two of Redwall books are available translated to my language, and I have yet only read the first one. Never the less I had to write this down, and I hope I have not made too many mistakes. I am rather uncertain regarding when in the Redwall timeline this occurs, but I believe it to be some hundred years after "Redwall" and "Mattimeo" but as I said, I really don't know what I'm talking about. As always I would appreciate reviews. Anything will do, but please be nice.

Disclaimer: The world of Redwall and historical characters like Matthias and Martin belong to the genius know as Brian Jacques. The rest of the characters are mine, to the best of my knowledge.

Redwall: The Prince of Cats

Or

TheBasiliskCrown

Part II

Snowflake chewed on the last piece of fish. The Abbot had been right, it did taste wonderful. He felt better then he had in weeks, and understood why the Redwallers could walk freely among every creature in the forest. He felt at peace.

But a soldiers work is never done as long as his mission is not completed. He sat up and wondered if he was strong enough to stand upright. A mousemaid came in and saw him.

"You should lie down, Master Silverslash," she said. She tried to sound firm, but he could hear the fear in her voice.

"I know," he said. "But if I have to lie hear and pretend to be dead I will go mad. Where are my things?"

"Your weapons and belongings are in the room next to this one," she answered. "I am afraid your chainmail was so damaged that we sent it to a smith to be repaired."

"Is he skilled?" the cat asked.

"Oh, very skilled, master Silverslash."

"Very well," Snowflake said. "I do not need it quite yet. Fetch my axe for me, my dear."

The maid doubted for a moment. "I am not sure that would be…"

"Please," the cat begged. "You need not to fear me. Even if my honour would allow me to assault you, I am still too weak to face your warriors. I only want it for training."

The mouse was still not sure of what to do, and Snowflake laughed. "Very well, little one, I shall fetch it myself."

Ignoring the mousemaid's protests he walked over to the next room and grabbed the engraved battleaxe from the shelf. He left his dagger and helmet, and his shirt had not yet been returned after being washed and fixed. He left the room and soon found the door leading to the outer corridor.

"Oh, my," the mouse said to herself. "I better go tell someone."

The large creature watched the great walls of the Abbey from his hideout in the bushes of Mossflower. What he was to do was not an easy task. In fact, few had ever succeeded. They said that every try to rob the Abbey was either doomed to fail or cursed with great unpleasantness for the thief.

That was why Dirk Velvetpaw had come. He knew it would be a worthy challenge.

The marten would now wait until sunset, and hidden in the shadows he would strike, swift and silently.

He sneaked back to his camp and sat down to get something to eat. One should never try to steal anything on an empty stomach.

Bleys was rather angry as he stepped out in the garden. The blasted creature was gone! When he heard that the cat had left his room and taken his axe with him he had immediately fetched his trusty broadsword, suspecting that the cat was up to no good. He found Michael sitting with his back towards a tree along with Old Hortense Ashstripe, the ageing badgermatron of Redwall. Both of them smiled when they saw the fox coming, which he found odd since he could not see anything funny in the situation.

"The cat…" he said plainly. "…has left his room."

"We know," Michael said.

"He took his axe," Bleys said.

"Yes, we have come to understand that," Hortense said.

"Do you realise that he can be anywhere?"

"Indeed he can," the badger said. "But now he happens to be over there."

Bleys turned his head in the direction Hortense pointed. Snowflake Silverslash was standing on the battlements, barechested except for his bandages and with his axe in his hand. The setting sun turned his fur into gold, and the light played on the weapon as he slowly moved it through the air in a strange and beautiful dance. Bleys did not need his training in the arts of war to realise that if dance had been made faster, the cat would suddenly be an opponent of lethal magnitude.

"Relax, young one," Hortense said. "We understand that you do not trust him, but you can not guard him day and night."

Bleys sighed. "Am I being paranoid?"

Michael and Hortense looked at each other.

"No," Michael said.

"Not at all," Hortense said and shook her head.

Then they both exploded in laughter.

"That was not very nice of you," Bleys said with a wounded tone in his voice.

"Hohoho! I am sorry, lad," Hortense chuckled. "You are careful, but there is a thin line between Careful and Paranoid, and you are dangerously close to it."

"Haha! Dangerously close? He is practically standing on it!" Michael laughed. "My dear friend, the badger is truly right. I know I can not expect you to trust him like a brother, but I at least want you to give him a chance."

"Very well," Bleys said and smiled, since the merryness of his two friends was affecting him. "I promise that I will try."

"Good," Hortense said. "My God! Look at the sky, burning from the touch of the setting sun! This is perfect weather for a swim in the pond."

"Honestly, Hortense, I do not understand how you could become so old when you have habits like that," Bleys said. 

"Habits like that keeps a badger young, lad," Hortense said. "I wonder if the otters are interested in a swimming contest."

Michael and Bleys watched the old badger as she left the garden, humming slightly to herself.

"Can she still outswim a otter?" the fox asked. "I was surprised the first time I saw it. I did not believe it was possible."

"With old Ashstripe everything is possible," Michael smiled. "There are legends about that badger and her exploits."

"How old _is _she?"

"No one knows," Michael said and shrugged his shoulders. "She has been here since I was little, and she was old already then. But I swear that one day I am going to look thought the chronicles and find out her age."

"Why not ask her?"

"Ask her yourself, but I happen to enjoy breathing."

The fox shrugged his shoulders. "Fine." He started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Michael asked.

Bleys turned towards him and blazed a silvery grin. "I am going to give our guest a chance."

"Oh my," Michael sighed.

Snowflake stood on the battlements, performing the ritual movements his father had teached him long ago. It seems so far away now. He heard someone coming towards him from behind. He twirled around with his axe raised, more on reflex then anything else. Before him stood the fox with one had resting on the cap of a large sword.

"Training, Master Silverslash?" Bleys asked.

Snowflake relaxed and let the weapon slide down the leather-loop on his belt. "Please do not call me 'master'," he begged. "I am not a tailor. If you feel a need to call my be a title, use 'sir'."

"You are a knight?" Bleys asked, suddenly interested.

"One of the best," Snowflake said with a slight bow. "Prelate of the First Claw Order and personal guard of Prince Thomas Tilldrum, at your service."

"That may be," Bleys said. "But I must tell you that I do not trust you at all. However, my friends has bid me to give you a chance, so I wanted you to know that I intend to treat you like the guest you are for as long as you are staying." His eyes suddenly sparked and locked with Snowflake's. "But if you betray our trust, I swear I will hunt you down and cut your heart out, be you a knight or not."

"Your loyalty to your friends honours you, fox," Snowflake responded. "I understand that you resent my kind. Why I do not know, but I do not blame you. I have had bad experiences with foxes myself. I only hope we can come to respect each other." 

"So do I," Bleys nodded and changed the subject. "Those movement you did, where have you learned them?"

"Passed down by the warriors of our kind since generations." The cat pulled up his axe again and held it for the fox to behold. "Works both with shield and without. Every now and then improvements are made, refining it into an true art of deadly simplicity."

"It sounds fascinating," Bleys said and meant it.

"Would you like me to show you?" Snowflake asked. "It works with swords too."

The interest in Bleys' eyes sparked once again. "It does?"

Michael was smiling when Thorn and Cal came to him some minutes later.

"Hello, brother, have you seen Bleys?" Thorn asked.

"Over there," the Warrior said and pointed. 

"Well, I've never…!" she gasped. The squirrel only stared.

On the battlements Bleys were standing next to Snowflake with his sword drawn. He tried to follow the movements made by the cat, and though they could not hear them speaking, they could clearly see the cat giving Bleys instructions and they both seemed to get along quite well.

"Now I have seen everything," Cal proclaimed.

"You said it, Cal," Thorn smiled. "You said it."

The sun had now almost disappeared behind the horizon, and stars could already be seen on the dark sky. Dirk knew it was time to act. He filled his backpack with his equipment and headed of to the Abbey to wait for the right moment. That night he would enter Redwall. He knew it in his heart.


	3. Cloak and Dagger

Redwall Cats3

Authors Note: See previous Author's Notes. Martin the Warrior has just come out over here, but I haven't managed to get my hands on a copy yet. Thanks for all the reviews, I really appreciate the kind words :)

Disclaimer: The world of Redwall and historical characters like Matthias and Martin belong to the genius know as Brian Jacques. The rest of the characters are mine, to the best of my knowledge.

Before I begin the next part, I would like to answer some questions I have received from **Mariel Gullwacker** and **Dara **via reviews:

**__**

Mariel Gullwacker: Did you get the name 'Bleys' out of the King Arthur legends? - Merlin's teacher. 

****

Answer: Actually, I took the name Bleys from one of the Nine Princes of Roger Zelany's Amber-books (which are complex but really good books for the little older readers). It is most probably so that Mr Zelany took the name from the old wizard of Arthurian Legend, seeing as one of the more important characters is actually named "Merlin", and another was called "Oberon" (Shakespeare's "A Midsummernight Dream")

**__**

Mariel Gullwacker: English isn't your first language? What language do you speak normally then? 

****

Answer: Last time I checked I was Swedish. I always had a talent for English, though, too much American TV, I guess. 

**__**

Dara: Is the name Prince Thomas Tilldrum from the story about the grave digger and the King of the cats? 

****

Answer: I honestly don't know. You see, Thomas (or Tom, as he was named until recently) Tilldrum have been around for a long, long while. First he was a Hexcat, a sort of feline mage in a story I wrote as a child. He was then the King of Cats, but he has morphed allot over the years and is now a warrior prince. The name was originally "Tim Tolldrum", which was somehow warped into Tom Tilldrum and Thomas Tilldrum. I read the name in an old RPG-magazine of my brother's, but I'm not sure where they got it. What is that story? It sounds _very _interesting!

If anyone of you have more questions, simply e-mail me them and I'll do my best to answer them. Now let's get it on!

__

Lights! Camera! Action! 

Redwall: The Prince of Cats

Or

The Basilisk Crown

Part III

The mouse knew he did not have much time. He held on to the letter in one paw as hard as he could, fearing he might drop it in his panic. He held his primitive spear in the other hand, with the head away from him so that he would not accidentally hurt himself. They were after him, he knew that, but how far behind he did not know. Tears burnt in his eyes as he stumbled his way forward. The village was destroyed. Bloodcomb and his hordes had attacked without warning. They never stood a fighting chance.

Finally he arrived to his goal. A small cliff not far from the village, covered with shrubbery. He quickly climbed up the cliffside and met with a large sparrowhawk that was hiding in the bushes.

"_Kriii! _Me waited as Friar said, friend David!" it greeted him. "How is the village?"

"The village is doomed," the mouse sighed. "Flight, listen to me! You need to take this message to Redwall Abbey immediately!"

Her reached the letter to the hawk. Flight violently shook his head. "_Kicki!_ No! Me stay and fight! Me fight with you, David! Me kill!"

"They are to many!" David said and forced the latter in among Flight's claws. "Take it now! You are the only one fast enough to reach Redwall in time to warn them! If you die Redwall is doomed!"

Suddenly they heard the screams from the vermin soldiers that had followed the young mouse. They were close now.

"Listen!" David hissed. "They will soon be here! You must take the friar's message to Redwall now!"

"Hey! I've found him!" a weasel who was just sticking his head up the cliff shouted. David twirled around and sent a rock flying with the sling he now had in his hand. The rock hit the weasel in the forehead and he fell backwards with a scream. 

"Go!" David shouted and grabbed his spear as rats, weasels and ermines advanced up the cliffside waving their clubs, swords and pikes. He rushed them in spite of their size and number, well knowing that it would be his final stand. "What are you waiting for! GO!"

Flight only hesitated for a moment, and then threw himself from the cliff. As he ascended to the sky arrows whistled past him. One of them made a deep scratch in his left wing. He cried out, more out of anger and hate then pain.

"_SKRIIIIIII!!! VENGEANCE! _Me will warn Redwall! Me will not let you down, friend David! Me will go to Redwall, and then we will kill! _KRIII!!!_"

Over at Redwall Abbey, everyone had settled down for some supper before going to bed. Bleys and Snowflake were getting along as well as anyone could hope. Bleys' eyes still darted in wild manner when confronted with the cat, and Snowflake still looked so tense that everyone were just waiting for him to spring through the ceiling, but they talked with each other. And they almost did not argue at all.

The two of them were now enjoying their supper along with Michael, Thorn and Cal.

"I am beginning to feel much stronger," Snowflake said. "I believe that I will be in shape to return to my homeland once again very soon."

"Where is your home?" Thorn asked.

"Oh, to the north," Snowflake said. "A grim, cold land, low on food and water, but it is home. We are not greedy like the ravens and the crows. We believe that we were shaped by the land, and that we are meant to live there."

They all knew what he meant about the ravens and the crows. A couple of hundred seasons ago a raven general named Ironbeak had tried to invade Redwall. He had failed and lost his life in the progress. The remainder of his army had been sent back to where they came from. 

"Have you fought many battles, Sir Silverslash," Cal asked. The young fighter had immediately found the knight interesting and always took the chance of asking him about his warrior skills.

"Oh, many," Snowflake laughed. "And you may call me Snowflake, little one. Yes, sometimes I believe there is always another raven who wants our food. It was actually because of such a situation that I ended up here. I am sure my Prince and the other orders have solved the matter already."

"It is always interesting to hear of other places," Michael said and smiled. "But the hour is late and it has been a hectic day, so I for one will leave for my bed."

"An excellent idea," Cal said and stretched her well-trained body. "A good night sleep and this squirrel will be as good as new. Maybe even my arm will be better."

They were apparently all tired and after wishing each other a good night's sleep they all left for their respective beds, unaware of the fact that they would not stay in them for long.

The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, the stars and the moon lit up the sky and Dirk Velvetpaw knew that most of the Redwallers were already asleep. Dirk waited a while longer, and then he knew that the time was at hand. Now was the time of sneaking steps in the dark, the time of shadows within shadows and the soft chirps of the lockpicks. The time of the cloak and dagger. Now was the hour of the thief.

He made his way for one of the walls, and even though he was a large animal he moved fast and silent. He heard something and froze on spot. Laughter and splashing. After a closer examination he found that it was only some old badger playing with some otters in the pond. He shrugged and continued. He had expected to find the Abbey under the protection of a badger, but he knew that if he was just bold and quick, he would get in and out of there before anyone knew what had happened. He used his grappling hook too climb the wall, and found a guard asleep on his post! 

__

And dis is supposed te be a "cursed place impossible te rob"? Dirk though. _Perhaps I've underestimated them?_

He pulled up all of the grappling hook and returned it to his sash. Then he sneaked down from the battlements and made his way to a small side door. He quickly picked the lock and sneaked inside, eager to make history as the only thief ever to succeed in robbing Redwall Abbey. 

When inside, he was disappointed in the low quantities of goods he actually found. He had imagined the place to be filled with riches. But he really did not care for the money. It was the reputation he would gain, to be spoken of many years after his death as one of the great master thieves.

__

But some valuables would not be totally wrong, he though as he stuffed his loot in his sack. He tried to move as quickly yet as silently as he could, not to awaken the sleeping Redwallers. Suddenly he heard someone coming, and quickly took cover deep in a dark corner and tried to make himself invisible. It was the badger who was returning from the pond, her fur still wet and muttering something about not being "too old to teach an otter how to swim". Then she chuckled and disappeared. 

Dirk dared to breathe again. That was a close one, but the badger had been too tired to discover him. He decided to get out of the Abbey as fast as he could, and started picking loot at a higher rate. He soon found himself standing in front of the old tapestry, the most prised relic of Redwall. 

For a moment, he wondered what it might be worth if he tried to steal it, or at least a piece of it. But then he looked at the picture of a mouse with a shining armour and a large sword, and suddenly chills went up his spine. He got the very unpleasant feeling that the warrior was staring angrily at him. Dirk was not superstitious, but he suddenly lost all urges to steal the old thing, and decided to let it hang where it was. 

Finally he had stolen enough to at least get noticed. He only left a small note behind with the text: _"With best regards: Dirk Velvetpaw, master thief."_ That would get the rumours going. 

Dirk was undoubtedly good at what he was doing, and would have succeeded if not for one tiny detail. He had made the mistake of eating too early and suddenly felt the hard boot of hunger kicking him in the guts. Climbing walls and sneaking around was demanding and to every thief, timing is everything. For a brief moment his stomach wrestled with his brains and finally he fell for the temptation to sneak to the kitchen to steal something to eat.

Dirk was not the only one in the mood for a midnight snack. Abbot Lucius had been with leading the great and noble Abby and dealing with all the responsibilities generously given to him as Abbot and thus he had not had the time to have a proper supper, and was therefore heading for the kitchen to see if there was nothing left of that lovely cake he knew had been baked as late as last afternoon. 

Although old and wise, Lucius was a simple mouse and did not handle unpleasant surprises very well. Thus, when he arrived to the kitchen and found a marten with a large sack next to him, drinking October Ale and eating the cake Lucius had just planned to get acquainted with, the shock was to great and he could do nothing but stand there and stare with eyes wide open. Dirk, who had noticed the mouse the very same moment as Lucius had noticed him, stopped eating and stared back, not sure what to do.

"Eh," he said. "Ops."

Something snapped within Abbot Lucius. "Thievery!" he shouted, his eyes blazing madly from a rage he never knew had existed. "Alarm! Theft and burglary of worst kind! Wake up! Wake up! He is stealing my cake!"

"Tails un whiskers!" Dirk cursed. He knew that it was only a matter of moments before the other residents of the Abby came running to aid their Abbot, so he had to get out of there quickly. He dropped the sack of loot, which would only be a burden during his escape, and ran past the Abbot, pushing the small mouse out of the way. Lucius hardly noticed and continued screaming like a madman while jumping up and down. "Take him! Catch him! He's getting away!"

Dirk did not need to sneak anymore, he ran as fast as he could, trying to remember the way out. He only managed to end up in a completely different area, facing a mouse with a huge sword in his paws. 

Even though Dirk was much larger then the warrior and not at all a bad fighter, he had heard to many stories about the sword-wielding mice of Redwall to dare to take any chances. Reaching for one of the short blades on his back, he met the attack with a quick block and then kicked the mouse away from him. He then pulled out a bola from his Bag O'tricks and swung it around in the air two times before letting go, aiming for the warrior's legs. The mouse, who had lunged forward once again fell to the ground as the leather thong with its two metal weights were winded around his legs, making him trip. Dirk did not waste time. Out of the room. Down the hallway, turn left, open the door, turn right, open the other door…

And stand face to face with yet another warrior, this one a young squirrelmaid holding a cutlass in her frontpaw. Dirk cursed in his mind. Why did they all have swords nowadays?

The squirrel was fast and Dirk only merely evaded her attack. He tried to get a better position and drew his other sword. Even if his blades were both shorter then hers, he had an edge in having two weapons. But she was good, and even if her main arm appeared to be injured, thus forcing her to fight with her left, her speed and agility was astounding. Dirk knew that he could not hold her for long, especially since he knew that the other Redwallers soon would arrive. _Perhaps the place _is _cursed? _he though.

"Here he is!" the squirrel shouted, and Dirk could hear pawsteps closing in on him. He quickly spun around, threw one of his swords into a wooden pillar, put his hand down one of the many bags he always wore in his belt, ducked the squirrel's attack, spun around again and threw a cloud of a grey powder in her face. The squirrel immediately pulled back, coughing, sneezing and rubbing her eyes. This gave Dirk the precious little time he needed, and he pulled his sword out of the pillar and ran of again.

"I'm not getting caught!" he said to himself. "I'm _not _getting caught!

But Lady Misfortune continued to follow the poor marten, and soon led him into a dead end. Before he even knew what had happened, he found himself staring at a very annoyed badger and a large and well-armed cat. When he turned around he saw the mouse-warrior and the squirrel, the last one still suffering from the effect of his powder, cutting of his escape. He turned back towards the cat and the badger.

"Eh, hello," he said and looked up on the two of them. "I seem te be lost. Have ye seen di exit?"

"The exit?" Hortense said in mock surprise. "Well, have you seen any exit around here, Sir Silverslash?"

"I am not sure, Madam Ashstripe," Snowflake said. "I have this long wooden handle with a sharp steel edge in one end, will that due?"

"No, no, no," Hortense said and shook her head. "That is a battleaxe, my dear boy. An _exit_ is the same thing as a way out. A _battleaxe_ is a heavy melee weapon that you use when you want to _cleave someone's head in two separate pieces!_"

"Oh," Snowflake said and smiled. "Well, what do you know?"

After a while, thing started to quiet down. Confused mice and other creatures stopped running around, asking what had happened. The stolen properties had been returned. The thief had been imprisoned. Even the Abbot had calmed down after that Brother Paul, the old chef, had promised to personally bake him a new nut-cake to replace the one that had been eaten by the "vile criminal and scum of a marten". 

Finally, Bleys and Hortense brought Dirk before Lucius, Michael and Cal. Cal was still upset over the unpleasant treatment he had given her.

"Let me have him!" she hissed. "I will teach him a thing or two! I will make him wish his family tree never even took root and started to grow! I will…"

"No!" Lucius said. "Even though this is a… Hmmm… very serious crime, I will not let it take an end in some personal vendetta." He leaned forward and defiantly looked the marten in the eyes. "Even though it goes against my better judgement! Now, I would like to throw you into the deepest dungeon we have, but since Redwall is not known for its deep dungeons, we will just have to lock you up in a temporary cell until we can decide what to do with you."

"Look, I know I'm not exactly a saint, but I swear on mi father's grave I never meant any harm!" Dirk said. Michael found it hard to place his peculiar accent, which gave him something of a suitable roguishness. "I'm just a simple thief, tryin' to make mi a name."

"Perhaps," Lucius said. "But we have had our share of thieves before, and it often ended in one tragedy or another. We are peaceful here at Redwall, but somewhere we must draw the line!" He turned to the fox and the badger. "Take him away. Treat him well, his punishment can wait until tomorrow."

Cal muttered something as the marten was more or less carried away by Bleys and Hortense. Lucius suddenly looked very tired. Michael noticed this.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"This is not a good sign," the Abbot sighed. "One misfortune never comes alone, they travel in groups. I just hope that we can handle the others as well as this one." He looked up at the Warrior, as if he had just noticed that he was there. "I am tired, my son, and so are you. We must return to our beds and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day."

Michael nodded silently. He was worried by the Abbot's words. He had known Lucius for a long time, and he knew that when the old mouse started to get prophetical, the times were right to worry.

And not far from Redwall Abbey, a mouse sat alone by a campfire. A mouse white as snow with a strange, spear-like weapon leaning towards his shoulders. The fire was reflected in his eyes, making them glow in a blood red light.


End file.
